


so i just ride

by lonelyheartsclub



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Face-Sitting, M/M, Rimming, they don't even kiss this is pure filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyheartsclub/pseuds/lonelyheartsclub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want to try something new tonight. I mean, we’ve already done it, but not in the way I’m thinking of.”</p>
<p>Louis cocks an eyebrow. “Like what?”</p>
<p>“Like I want you to ride my face.” And it comes out really, really blunt. Like, wow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so i just ride

**Author's Note:**

> this is for rose, and i originally intended to finish this a lot earlier than i actually did, but this little pea has stuck by me for months and offered her endless support and nagging, so yeah. i love her.
> 
> this has also been translated into [polish](http://anexsol.tumblr.com/post/98632268992/so-i-just-ride).

It’s become a bit of a thing, you see. Or perhaps it was always a thing. You can’t really blame him, though, considering Louis’ taste for pants that are too tight for a bum that’s too big.

It was undeniably harder during The X Factor, when Harry had to conceal his feelings in the fear that Louis didn’t reciprocate them (which was done very poorly, to the point where Louis had cornered him backstage once and lured them out of him by getting so close that Harry knew the exact brand of cologne Louis was wearing. Which—yeah. He probably would’ve been able to counter the unexpected attack if it weren’t for the fact that Louis’ bitten red lips were mere centimetres from his and the energy buzzing between them was electric and the fact that it’d felt like a damn Nicholas Spark’s movie and how he  _had_  to kiss the boy he’d been getting off to for months). So…no, you can’t blame him.

It’s a problem now, though. It’s a problem when Liam’s the only barrier between him and Louis on this godforsaken couch that they’re all somehow expected to squeeze onto (which they manage. They always do, but still), and Harry’s hard as a rock in the jeans Lou had miraculously managed to slip him into earlier. Yeah, they were tight. Yeah, the interviewer will probably notice the unmistakable bulge in his pants, or most likely already has due to the little smirk playing on the corners of her lipstick coated mouth.

“So, Harry,” the interviewer—Harry’s forgotten her name. He doesn’t really keep track—chirps, leaning forward in her chair enough that her cleavage shows and flashes a too-bright smile, giving off an air of feigned interest, “you were seen out and about with a lovely lady friend recently. Is there a potential love life in the works? Twitter’s been exploding. I’m sure the fans are dying to know.”

He almost  _feels_  Louis stiffen and struggle to keep his composure. It’s like a regular routine. Harry is asked about his love life and it takes everything Louis’ got to hold back a sarcastic comment. The truth is, Harry relishes it.

“Well, uh…” Harry chuckles, drawing out the words long enough that he knows Louis will be getting antsy, “She’s great. She’s a lot of fun, but I only really consider her a friend. Everything’s too busy at the moment, what with the tour and everything, to be thinking about anything more. Perhaps afterwards, you never know.”

The interviewer apparently deems this an appropriate answer, seeing as how she nods and her grin doesn’t move from her face, seemingly a permanent fixture.

There are a few more inane questions and answers exchanged—the usual—before the interviewer’s announcing the end of the show to the small audience gathered in the wings and they’re seen off stage.

Harry’s erection hasn’t been forgotten, unfortunately, and as soon as Harry’s safely back in the tour bus with the rest of the lads, Louis turns on him, straddling his hips before the driver’s even set his foot on the accelerator, earning a simultaneous groan from Niall and Liam, who immediately turn back to the front, unlike Zayn, who’s already gone to the world, curled up asleep with a blanket draped haphazardly over him. Typical.

“Come on, Lou. What if someone sees us?” Harry says in a playful tone, making to push Louis off of him, albeit only succeeding in bringing him closer instead, chests now flush together from the action.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Louis drawls, rocking his hips back and forth experimentally, eyebrows shooting up in faux surprise and a hand slapping to cover his mouth, as if he doesn't know exactly what he's doing to the growingly flustered boy beneath him.

“Harry Edward Styles,” Louis says, mirth swimming in a pair of startlingly blue eyes, “do you have a boner?”

“Of course not,” Harry huffs, feeling knives of arousal—betrayal—twist in his gut. This always has to happen, doesn’t it? Louis has to have him putty in his hands every chance he gets.

“Then what’s pressing into my arse? Curious,” Louis says in the utmost of serious voices, squirming around until they’re in even more of a compromising position, if humanly possible.

Niall and Liam now appear to be sharing a set of earphones from where they’re seated in front of them, and Harry would most likely find that amusing, if it weren’t for his current state.

“Hmm,” Harry fake-muses, hands sneaking down the back of Louis’ pants and squeezing at the bare flesh, “it must be a figment of your imagination.”

Something visibly sparks in Louis, then, causing his eyes to glint mischievously and his hips to gyrate more incessantly, Harry biting down harshly on his bottom lip in the process.

“When we get home,” Harry breathes, leaning forward to latch his mouth onto the tender skin at the base of Louis’ neck, eliciting a whine from the older boy, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll see stars.”

Louis’ mouth drops open comically wide. All he can do is nod, already losing the control he never really had in the first place.

The thing with Louis is that he acts like a pit bull in public, but is actually more of a chihuahua when it comes to the bedroom, and Harry may or may not completely take advantage of that (he does).

~*~

They’re back at their apartment in what seems like far too long, considering the way Harry already has Louis pinned down to the bed shirtless and looking up at him with an unmistakable awe dancing in hooded eyes.

“So, what you promised—in the bus—isn’t going to be broken, I hope. I better see those stars, Styles, or I’m afraid I’m going to have to call your mother.”

Harry only has time to let out a chuckle before he’s on Louis, taking one of his hardening nipples into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the pert little bud, revelling in the way Louis’ breath audibly hitches and how his body stiffens beneath him in anticipation.

They’ve done this so many times,  _so many_ , yet the thrill remains. They never grow tired of one another. Harry would honestly be more than happy to spend the rest of his life curled up with Louis watching shitty reality television (and maybe fucking every once in a while. What? Harry has needs).

“Come on, you twat. No teasing, I’ve had enough. I  _want_  you.”

“But I like teasing. Especially when it’s you,” Harry pouts, Louis furrowing his eyebrows petulantly in response.

Harry ignores Louis, simply mouthing down his body until his head is nestled in the sparse patch of hair below his navel, and he hesitates.

“I want to try something new tonight. I mean, we’ve already done it, but not in the way I’m thinking of.”

Louis cocks an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like I want you to ride my face.” And it comes out really, really blunt. Like, wow.

“Ride your—” Louis inhales sharply, releasing a whimper. “ _Fuck_ , Harry.”

“Is that a yes?” Harry smirks, nosing along the area above Louis’ waistband.

“Of course it’s a yes,” Louis whines, “you’re so mean.”

“I know.”

Harry removes the rest of their clothing in what could only be described as superhuman speed, tossing the lot carelessly to the side.

As of now, Harry’s got a gloriously golden and naked as can be Louis Tomlinson spread out for him obscenely on crisp white sheets, waiting to be taken. And if that thought alone doesn’t turn him on, he doesn’t know what does.

Remembering his plans for the two of them, Harry shifts them both around so that he’s on the bottom and Louis’ on the top.

Louis takes control, then, shifting upward and situating himself on Harry’s face, gripping the headboard in front of him for support.

Harry can feel Louis tense, no doubt worrying if he’s doing the right thing, and roams his hands over the curves of his pretty little body to reassure him. This seems to work; enough for Harry to spread his cheeks apart without a sign of any further bodily protest, warm breath hitting Louis’ most private place, a shudder wracking the body above him. And this is hot—much hotter than Harry expected.

Yeah, they’ve done this before. Harry’s gotten impatient during the day and dragged Louis as sneakily as he could away—with the help of the other boys coming up with excuses for their management team as to where they were going—to eat him out in a disabled bathroom (not one of their more extravagant choices), a storage closet…anywhere they weren’t at risk of getting noticed, really. But this is different. It feels much more intimate. Intimate in a way that sends chills up Harry’s spine.

Harry starts out gentle at first, soothing, allowing Louis to warm up to the sensation, despite how they’ve done this countless times. He laves around his hole with practiced ease, dampening the area and flattening his tongue before pointing it and breaching the tiniest bit, earning a pleased sound.

Harry takes this as a sign of permission and delves deeper into him, inch by inch, Louis rocking back the slightest bit.

Harry withdraws immediately, hand moving from its place on Louis’ hip to give him a sharp smack on the bum. “Did I say you could do that, you dirty little slut?” Harry snarls, voice coming out a surprising shade of menacing.

But Louis loves it, of course, when he’s spoken to like that. Being treated as an object rather than a person does things it probably shouldn’t to him, makes him  _feel_  something, and Harry knows.

He leans back into the touch, a filthy moan escaping his lips. “More, Harry. Please—I need, I need… _God_.”

This leads Harry to thrust his tongue into Louis without warning, any previous caution obviated.

It feels dirty and forbidden and  _incredible_. Not to mention the perfect way Harry twists his tongue inside Louis that tears the most delicious sounds from him.

Harry would do anything to wreck Louis. He likes watching him as he tears apart at the seams, knowing that it’s his doing and feeling the satisfaction that lingers days afterwards. It doesn’t take much, usually. Or at least not when he’s doing it.

Harry runs his hands over Louis, mapping his stomach (which he’s usually very self-conscious about, but Harry makes sure to remind him as much as possible that it’s one of his favourite parts of him), his chest, the junction where his collarbone meets his shoulder, and he can’t fucking  _breathe_ , but it’s good. Hell, it’s more than good.

Harry knows he’s hit the spot when he pries Louis open with his hands to dig deeper and he all but shouts. Harry can only imagine how deliciously flushed and glazed he looks from where he’s riding him shamelessly.

“Think you can be a good boy for daddy and come without being touched?” Harry says, voice muffled against the pink he’s currently biting and nipping at with his teeth, and Louis seems incapable of fucking  _words_  at this point, seeing as how he simply nods his head dazedly.

And then Harry’s at it again, differing between licking into Louis and trying to touch as many parts of him as possible, skimming over his leaking cock several times, earning a jerk.

Louis’ doing most of the work now, working himself back onto Harry, getting him as deep as possible and moaning as he’s stretched.

“I’m gonna— _shit_. Harry, it hurts,” Louis groans weakly, emitting what sounds like a choked hiccup.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. You taste so good,” Harry consoles, and he’s pretty sure Louis doesn’t hear him sucking a finger into his mouth, because when he prods the tip at Louis’ entrance, all he receives is a startled gasp and a jolt. And is Louis  _crying_?

He is, Harry realises, soft sobs ringing through the air, and he swears he nearly comes right then and there at the sound of it, because  _he_  did this to Louis. Holy hell.

Harry sinks his index finger in slowly, and shortly—once Louis’ accustomed to the added girth—there’s another alongside that one, and then  _another_ , and there’s  _three_  fingers inside Louis as well as a tongue, and he’s crying even harder now, salty tears running down his face.

Harry removes his tongue and licks around his fingers, coaxing them in and out of Louis, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

But then Louis turns his head back to look at Harry with red-rimmed eyes and a spit-slicked mouth, and his voice sounds completely and utterly destroyed when he croaks, “No. Need your cock. Need it so badly. Pl- _ease_.”

Okay. Harry can’t really protest to that, seeing as his cock is an appalling hue of red, pre-come steadily collecting at the tip, and he’s in serious need of release. And Louis most likely is, too.

“Fuck, Louis. Okay. Just—just hold on, yeah? You’re doing so well.”

Harry lifts Louis gently off of him and switches them around again so that Louis’ lying flat on his back, and he looks more ruined than Harry ever would’ve imagined.

Louis’ caramel hair is stuck to his face from sweat and his eyes appear to have drifted closed of their own accord. And Harry just  _looks_ , because how anyone could possibly be so pretty escapes him, and he likes to savor what he has as much as possible, since he never knows when it’ll be gone.

What baffles Harry the most is that Louis’ still asking for  _more_. He's never satisfied. His libido is endless. The boy could quite literally go for days on end and still be drunk for whatever Harry has to give him.

Snapping out of his trance, Harry realises that they’re in need of lube, and figures Louis won’t mind if it takes slighty longer before he’s inside him, considering he looks like he’s in an entirely different dimension.

He slides off the bed and hurries into the ensuite, fumbling around in the drawers until he reaches the third one down and finds their stash, withdrawing a condom and a half-used bottle of lube.

When he returns, he finds Louis with his back arched off the bed and two fingers tucked snugly into his arse, mewling, "Yeah, Haz. Right there. Love your big cock."

And it doesn't take much more than that to get Harry back on the bed and popping open the cap of lube to slick up his throbbing prick, honestly.

Harry actually  _sighs_  when he finally wraps a hand around himself and strokes, making sure to spread a generous amount of the substance.

He's fully aware that Louis likes the burn and the drag. He says it makes him feel 'alive'. At the same time, though, Harry doesn't wanna hurt him  _too_  much. Especially on times like this, when he's away in his own little dreamland.

Alas, he's about to roll on the condom when he feels a delicate hand clutch onto his own. "N-no, I wanna feel you."

"Are you sure?" Harry asks, barely finishing his question before Louis’ grabbing his cock and guiding it to his hole. And—well.

"Such a cockslut, you are." is the last thing Harry says before he's pushing in, and he swears he hears Louis fucking  _purr_  as he does it.

The crown is now sheathed in Louis' warm heat, and it takes everything Harry has not to give in and take him roughly right there. Although, this seems like exactly what Louis wants, seeing as he immediately starts whining and pushing back earnestly, looking into Harry's eyes so pleadingly it could almost be branded pitiful.

Harry manages to sink in another teasing inch before Louis' wrapping his miniature legs around Harry's broad frame, pulling him in with as much force as he can muster from his current position until he's buried balls deep, both groaning in unison at the sensation.

Harry stops moving completely in order to lean in and nibble Louis' ear, rumbling, "You couldn't even wait two minutes for me to get back from the bathroom. Always need to have something inside you, don't you? Whether it's my cock or my tongue."

Then, he's pulling out and driving forcefully back in, causing Louis to cry out.

He swivels his hips torturously, slowly picking up speed, cock moving thickly inside Louis as he forms a rhythm and his hips are mercilessly snapping against his arse, causing it to redden.

And that's when Harry sees it. There's a rather painful-looking mark on Louis' arse in the shape of a handprint... _his_  handprint. Harry actually  _growls_  at that, stopping his ministrations momentarily in order to simply admire.

It's almost like some sadistic form of art, and as much as Harry wants to take a picture of it and pin it up on his wall as a reminder, he thinks that'd be pretty weird. He wouldn’t want Gemma stumbling across it one day while they’re eating Chinese take-away (“ _Harold_ ,  _whose arse is that_?”).

"You're unreal, you know that?" Harry breathes out, holding Louis' hips firmly to the mattress when they involuntarily buck up.

"Faster, harder," Louis gasps, throwing his head back to present the smooth, tanned column of his neck, which looks much too innocent for Harry' liking, driving him to lurch forward and suck a mark into the freshly purpling skin.

"Don't tell me what to do. I'm the one in charge here, remember?"

Harry punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, hitting the spot in Louis he's been aiming for.

"Jesus!" Louis yelps, hands flying to catch onto Harry's shoulder, fingernails digging in deep enough to draw blood.

They go like that for a while, Harry draping himself like a blanket over Louis' much more petite body, no sounds filling the air other than their heavy breathing and whispered encouragements (and the rhythmic thumping of the next-door neighbour’s obnoxious metal music).

Louis wraps his legs tighter around Harry, somewhat like a kitten with a bowl of milk, allowing himself to be taken. Then, his breathing picks up the slightest bit, and Harry knows that he’s on the brink (knows what Louis does before climax off by heart), and the air suddenly lodges itself in his throat, because Louis is watching him with this fucking  _look_  in his eyes, and Harry thinks that he's both the angel and the devil combined in one frustratingly beautiful human being that never stops shining wherever he goes.

It only takes a couple of raunchy murmurs about how Harry should spank Louis more often to finish the older boy off, his untouched cock twitching, come shooting out onto Harry’s sinfully plump lips, which he laps up without complaint.

The clench of muscle around Harry’s cock as Louis releases is enough to undo him, and he’s about to pull out, but then Louis notices despite his post-coital daze, briskly shaking his head. So Harry fills Louis up at his unspoken request until he can’t anymore.

And it’s like that, pretty much.

Once they’ve ridden out their highs together and the sheets are respectfully sticky, Harry unwillingly rises from the mattress, returning from the bathroom a short while later with a washcloth to tend to whatever kind of mystical creature is lying lax on the bed.

~*~

When the sun peeks up from behind the clouds, signalling the beginning of a new day, Harry feels a prodding in his arm, to which he grumbles. He's about to protest before he realises it's only Louis, who’s sporting a sour expression.

“Yes, your highness? How may I be of service?” Harry says in the drowsiest posh accent he’s ever attempted.

“Me bum is sore.”

“Is this your way of asking for round two?”

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you leave comments or kudos, i may as well marry you right here, right now.
> 
> [tumblr](http://kindofsharethat.tumblr.com/)   
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/kindofsharethat)


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